“But what do you think the intention was?” Just Get It Over With asked, hand on her chin. Bitch’s Bitch, Mouth Down South, and Vagina Dentata were linked arm in arm, motionless, while Shaft, Hoseblower and Hairy Helmet lay sprawled at their feet, legs spread salaciously. All players in the tableau were clad in identical outfits, all but Tricrapylete, who gazed at them wistfully.

“Ooh, over there!” pointed Bottom Dollar. “I see My Little Porno, Tears of Semen, Fuck Norris, and Tonya Hardon. They’re all standing around the check—no one is showing their cards yet.”

“Let me guess, Bitches Playing Poker.” Cockagami yawned. “And over there, Miss Delivery and John Handcock kneeling before the Perfect Woman? The Birth of Penis.” He strolled a few feet further. “Ru Ru Rimmin, shouting On On! will obviously be ‘The Scream,’ and I don’t know really want to know why Nappy Headed Homo, Dickweed, and Gondolerrhea have gotten so sweaty, but I’m guessing it has something to do with ‘Waterwillies.’”

“Cockagami, can’t you find anything you like here?” One Night Only asked plaintively.

“Actually, I can’t—“ Cockagami’s eyes widened.“Holy shit, what is that?”

Pepe le Poop was cowering at the corner of the road, while a car had skidded to a stop near him. Leave It To Cleavage was in the center of the scene, launching the douchebag who had emerged from the vehicle into midair with a well-placed kick. Meanwhile, Reverse Schoolgirl and Weekend at Abba’s were sculpting the diorama rapidly.

“Do you think you could kick him again?” asked Six Tits a Week. “I don’t think the ladies captured it quite yet.” Leave It To Cleavage went in for another one, while Dick Simmons took as many reference shots as he could squeeze in between selfies.

“This is definitely going in my art blog,” Roman Showers told Chicken Bone Her as they watched, who nodded and quietly updated her own blog via phone. Finally, the sculptors had finished, and Uber Luber drew back the curtain that had been erected.

“We call it ‘Woman Attacked by Baby,’” Masterbaster announced. Just Pat did a happy jig, while Big Cock Chains and Just Keith clapped politely.

“Are we almost done?” Bambi’s Bitch asked, while Scent of a Man looked around for the alcohol hopefully.

“I’m afraid our plans are getting a bit askew,” Hand Pump interrupted. “I know we’ve gone all around Russian Hill, made our way back to the start, and despite no mention of any of this thus far, we’re going to have to move yet again back to the beer check.”

“So surreal,” remarked Gobble My Ass and Deadbeat, barely hanging on to the whipcrack pace of their own trail.

Rent Whore was delighted to find her ears had become butterfly wings, while Fuck Buddy was running in a wristwatch the size of a hamster wheel, if the hamster was Fuck Buddy. Backside Banger groaned and got back into Chester, which was now a fish. Meanwhile, Just Doesn’t Get It and Good Shit Lollicock rode twenty story high elephants back towards circle.

“This is getting way too abstract for me,” Do Her Well complained, boobs starting to slip downwards to her knees. “The Persistence of Mammaries might be fine art, but it’s a bitch to deal with.”

“Is the In-N-Out exhibit still open?” Daddy’s Little Screamer asked hopefully. “I came all the way to tour it, and I’m not giving a five star review unless I see it!”

“One more display,” Mouth Down South declared, motioning towards Just Natalie. “Ask me about my slippery sister?” He read the placard she held proudly.

But she gave no answer, and all they could see in the darkness was her Moan-a Lisa smile.